She smelled like rain and gunpowder and adrenaline—an intoxicating mix that reminded me too much of the field, of everything I swore I’d left behind.
Aaron’s voice broke through from the corner. “Halcyon’s network is going dark. They’re scrubbing servers. We have hours, maybe less.”
Julia blinked, the moment fracturing. “Then we go,” she said, already reaching for her jacket.
Aaron held up a hand. “No. We move only when we’ve got a clean line. One mistake, and Reese vanishes.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I caught her arm before she could. My hand slid over the damp sleeve, feeling the tremor she tried to hide. “He’s right,” I said quietly. “You’re running on fumes.”
“I’ve run on worse,” she shot back, but her voice cracked just enough to give her away.
“Julia.”
The way I said her name stopped her cold. She exhaled, slow and shaky, and let the fight drain from her shoulders.
Aaron and Miles took the hint, retreating to the far end of the room. For a moment, it was just us—the storm, the low hum of the computers, and everything unsaid hanging between.
“You keep saving me,” she whispered.
“Maybe I like the excuse.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, dark and certain. “And what if I don’t want saving?”
“Then maybe I’m the one who needs it.”
She didn’t smile this time. She just looked at me, rainlightflickering in her eyes, and I knew we were standing on the edge of something we wouldn’t come back from. The one night we had together was only the first of a million.
Her hand brushed mine, brief but deliberate. The contact lit every nerve in my body. I could’ve kissed her right then—wanted to—but the mission loomed like a shadow between us.
She drew back first. “We’ll finish this,” she said, voice steady again. “Then you can tell me what that means.”
“Count on it.”
16
Hawk
The storm hadn’t stopped. It whispered against the roof, a soft yet relentless rhythm that filled the cabin with a strange sense of uneasy calm. The others were asleep or pretending to be, their gear lined up by the door for a predawn departure. The mission briefing sat open on the table, but I hadn’t read the same line twice.
Julia was by the window again, her reflection framed in the glass. Moonlight traced the edge of her profile, silver in her hair. She didn’t turn when she said, “You’re pacing.”
“I think better on my feet.”
She glanced back, eyes tired but steady. “That's what you call it?”
I stopped. “You should be sleeping.”
“I tried,” she said quietly. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Torres. Frank. All of it.”
I crossed the room before I meant to. “You can’t carry every name that bleeds in your direction, Julia. It’ll hollow you out.”
She turned, facing me fully now. “And what about you? How many names do you carry?”
More than I could ever count. But I didn’t answer. The silence between us thickened until it felt alive.
Her breathing hitched. “You said earlier you liked excuses to save me.”
“Maybe,” I murmured. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
